Crazy Is as Crazy Does
by EE's Skysong
Summary: AU, twoshot 'Is it cool to say you met your girlfriend in a psych ward? Because that's totally where this discussion is going.' Ch. 2: Azula tries to fill out a form and ends up thinking about her boy toy instead. Harula
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "I am special I am happy I am gonna hurl!"

(An: Um, before I get flamed to the sun and back, please understand that this is a joke. A big one. It talks about suicide, sex, and depression in a rather flippant way because it is a JOKE. It utilizes a crack pairing because I like Harula and because it is a JOKE. It is a half-assed, vague AU because it is a JOKE. So if you're going to flame me about that, please go somewhere else. Flame me about how much the rest of it sucks. Haru's behavior is actually based on my friend's, so I more or less know what I'm talking about here.)

Ever get sick of being a nice guy? Hell knows I do. Heaven knows too; it got the memo months before hell. Even though hell has high-speed. Heaven used to have me on speed-dial. Now I think I'm on the blacklist.

But I digress.

I mean, seriously. How did a sixteen-year-old get so evil? …Or so experienced, for that matter? I mean, I'm eighteen, and I don't know half the stuff she knows about… well, you know. Not for lack of attempts at learning.

She, of course, doesn't attempt to teach me; she just smirks, tosses her hair, and moves my hands to the right places. I try to remember them for future reference, but I always forget in the… uh… heat of the moment.

Good God, I'm trying to make my case as a bad boy, and I can't even say the word _orgasm_? No wonder Azula always laughs at me. I think I'll go take a bath with a toaster.

Except that if I told Azula that, she'd probably ask to join me. She's not just more experienced than me, she's _nuts_. And I don't mean dominatrix-nuts, I mean tried-to-kill-herself nuts.

…Is it cool to say you met your girlfriend in a psych ward? Because that's where this discussion is leading. I mean, it's not like we exchanged phone numbers over Prozac and made out with some comatose guy in the room. We just happened to both be admitted at the same time- her for the suicide attempt, me for severe OCD (more specifically, severe OCD that caused me to freak out and almost burn down the mall).

I'm on medication for that now, by the way, but Azula still coughs every once in a while just to watch me twitch. And she makes it a point to count out loud how many times I touch the doorknob before I leave my apartment. Bitch.

O-o-O-o-O

At the psych ward, we only started talking because she spilled something on me. This was after I told her what I was in for, and so she "accidentally" spilled her water on me. Yeah. I spazzed. I realize now that it was to distract me from asking _her_ why she was detained, and let me tell you, it worked. At least it didn't stain my clothes. It was my favorite outfit.

I found out later that she had been dragged in there by her brother after attempting to slit her wrists (only "attempting" because he broke down the door to the bathroom and caught her with the razors… yes, her whole family _is_ rather crazy, how could you tell?). She was severely depressed because of her anorexia. Also because of her anorexia, she had to stay there a lot longer than I did, but I still left the place with her phone number.

I didn't actually lie before; we exchanged phone numbers over the crappy hospital food and made out in front of her roommate, who is blind. Totally not the same thing.

I had more or less given up on ever seeing her again when, about two months later I got a phone call. In the middle of Calculus, no less. I didn't recognize the number, but I did recognize her voice. Somewhere between a husky purr and a psychotic moan, you know? Not something you forget.

"So, Haru…" she had murmured. "Miss me?"

Actually, I had. She's got weight issues because she's a model, so every time I drove past my apartment, I saw her face on the billboard. Her gorgeous face. The gorgeous face that I had made out with- twice. I may have a lot of girl friends, but I don't get laid a lot, so it was like a slap in the face every time I drove by.

Or, you know, a good hard yank to somewhere much lower. Depended on the day.

After freaking out and almost dropping the phone, I managed to say, "No, not really." Desperate equals bad, ladies. That's the only non-nice guy philosophy I follow.

"Yes you did."

I never said I was _good_ at not sounding desperate and what-not. But I ignored that. "What do you want?"

"Dinner. A movie. A quick fuck in the back of your car."

I paused a moment, to see if she would laugh, but she didn't.

"You still there?"

"Er, yeah… I have a motorcycle, not a car." Lame, yeah, but it was the only thing I could think of to say. I sure as hell wasn't saying no.

Azula purred- literally _purred_. "That's even better. There's nothing worse than a gearshift jammed into your back. A movie and dinner at your place. Longer liasons on your couch."

Longer was good. Longer was _very _good. "What time?"

"Free tonight?"

Technically, I was planning to get hammered with my friend Katara and complain- her about her love life, me about my lack of it- but a pretty girl who was totally into me versus a pretty girl who would be like kissing my sister? We'll see which the lower half points to first. "Yeah, absolutely. What time?"

"Eight. It'll take me that long to get unpacked and crap."

I realized then that I was missing one very important thing: her address. "Where do you live?"

"Zuzu can tell you. He goes to your school. He says you have lunch together."

"Oh. Right." We did … except that I usually made it a point to avoid him, since where there was Zuko, there was Jet, and Jet hates me since Katara still talks to me. Zuko's not all that keen on me either. I'm just too cheerful. I'd hate to think how he'd react if he knew I was hoping to sex up his little sister.

"So. Eight. Be late and I'll find some other loser with girly hair to forget you with."

O-o-O-o-O

I'm probably giving you the wrong idea about us- that the whole dating thing is based mostly on sex, not anything else. And for the most part, it is. Or it would be, if we'd actually had sex yet. We've gotten close, but, well… I have issues with screwing a girl when I can count her ribs through her shirt. Not major ones, I just… I dunno, I'm worried I'll break her or something.

I told her that on that movie-and-a-screw date, and she replied, "You're too late, hun. The world already broke me." Thankfully, that was the only time she has ever called me _hun_. I'd be worried about her otherwise.

And we do talk a lot. She finds me hilarious, and I think she's fascinating. She's crazy and sadistic and a sex fiend, and she's so _blasé_ about it! Little Miss Calm-as-You-Please. Unfortunately, it's really, really hot. She knows it, too. There's a reason she never goes anywhere without that smirk, you know.

What do we talk about? Well, in the psych ward, it was mostly getting to know each other sort of stuff. Like how we were admitted- both forcefully, me by mall security, her by her uncle. We didn't talk much about our issues, though. Azula can't exactly deny that she's anorexic anymore, but she's still tight-lipped about it. In the ward, she told me she wasn't sure why they had dragged her in here- every teen attempts suicide at least once.

Says quite a bit about her, doesn't it?

Anyway, back to my original topic of discussion. I'm getting sick of being a nice guy. I know she doesn't really give a shit about me- she's serious about the "late and I'll find a replacement" policy. Azula's just looking for a bit of entertainment. I wish I could say the same.

See, if I were a bad boy, getting involved with a girl like her wouldn't bother me at all because I'd be just the same- I wouldn't have to worry about… you know, getting attached. And I'd probably be able to worry about getting her bra off instead of making sure she keeps getting help.

But I think I'm stuck caring about her. Damn.

(Azula's side of the story will be out ASAP… review please, even if it's just to say how much you hate my guts…)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: "I hate you." "I don't hate you." "I don't care."

(An: Okay, so this chapter has a little smut, but probably nothing worse than you'd see in a PG-13 movie (except for the boobs, but come on, this is freaking fanfiction). This chapter comes after the last; you'll see why. I'm actually iffy about this one; I've never attempted to write from the POV of someone who's anorexic, but I've known several with the disease. This chapter might read oddly because it's like Azula's inner monologue.)

Name, age, last medical emergency... pfft. They don't even ask for my legal guardian's signature (not that I couldn't fake Daddy Dearest's)... although they do ask for my work phone number. Eh, I'll lie. I don't think Speedymart will mind a little publicity.

Why am I seeking treatment? …Why _am_ I seeking treatment?

Who knew this would be the hardest part of this damn form? I'm certainly not seeking it because I want it. I've been forced into inpatient treatment before (Zuzu's still got the marks from it), and I hated it. All these people telling me there's something _wrong_ with me and making me eat. I tried to remind them that I have a job that _requires_ me to be skinny, and I believe one of them replied that I also had to be alive. Cheeky bastards.

I wonder if "Because I want to get laid" is an acceptable answer, since, now that I think about it, it's more or less the truth. My boyfriend Haru only thinks I'm gorgeous with my clothes on. Seriously. You know what happened the first time we nearly went all the way?

O-o-O-o-O

_I_ thought things were going fine. He showed up on time, looking clean and dashing (if you can call a man who spends more time on his hair than I do _dashing, _anyway). He made dinner (which immediately put him higher on the list than most of my dates), and then, well… you know how those things go. We stumbled into his bedroom (again, higher than most dates because it wasn't just his couch or the backseat of his car). His shirt had disappeared somewhere along the way, but he seemed reluctant to unclothe me.

I slammed him down on the bed and pulled my mouth away from his long enough to say, "If you're that damn bad at undoing bras, I'll do it myself." I tugged off my shirt, and this time Haru broke the kiss.

"Azula…" He was gaping at me like a dead fish.

I undid the clasp on my bra. "What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever seen boobs before?"

That snapped him out of it. He pushed me so I was sitting on my knees and met my eyes (and that sent him to the top of the list; not one man I've ever met can do that while I'm topless). He said nothing for a moment, and I was going to tell him the list thing when he said, "Azula, I thought you got help."

I crossed my arms. "It's cold in here. Are we going to have sex or not?"

Haru just looked at me, and I fumbled around for my shirt. "Azula, I'm serious. I thought you got help."

"For what?" I replied, noting with annoyance that my voice was shriller than usual. "To get help, I would need a problem, and I don't have one."

Haru stopped me before I could shrug my shirt back on and gently traced my collarbones and my top two ribs, both of which stuck out in sharp relief. I slapped his hands away. "They could only keep me in the inpatient facility against my will as long as I was endangering myself. Once I got back to a 'healthy'-" here I made a disgusted noise; couldn't anyone else see that I was _fat_ and in danger of losing my job?- "weight, they couldn't make me stay."

"So now you're trying to drop the two or three pounds you gained there?" said Haru, his face impassive.

I scrutinized him for a moment, but I honestly couldn't tell what he was thinking, a very rare ocurrence. "Yes."

Haru looked at me steadily for a moment. He sighed and cupped my face in his hands. "You need to go back, Azula."

I stepped back, out of his reach. "The hell do you care? This is our first date."

"And I'd do the same thing if I saw you on the street! You'll kill yourself- if you don't starve, you'll jump off a bridge or something!"

I crossed my arms again. He was cute, but he was quickly getting very boring. "I'm on antidepressants now."

Haru shrugged. "So'm I, and I still get the urge to stab myself every now and then. But unlike you, I can cope with it." He leaned over and kissed me, and I cursed myself for ever wanting to date a man who could surprise me… and for still liking kissing him. "Maybe it isn't my place, but I'm not like you. I have this bad habit of caring about people."

I forgave him the insult since I'd done nothing but to him. "It's not. I'm not hurting myself anymore, and you barely know me, so why do you care?"

Haru shrugged, still holding my gaze. "Maybe because I know that, given the chance, you'll hurt yourself again."

I glared at him sullenly. "All I want is to be beautiful. Why do so many people have a problem with that?"

"You _are_ beautiful." He reached over and buttoned up my shirt. "Just… not when you're hurting yourself."

"Hmmph."

"Don't give me that. You know I'm right."

O-o-O-o-O

The main reason I'm filling out this damn form is because I couldn't disagree with him. I made some excuse and left early, mostly so he wouldn't have a chance to make me feel guiltier. He wouldn't let me in the house without kissing me again, though, so at least there was hope he would come to his senses.

He did, eventually- and by eventually I mean our second date. Usually, I end up making out with the guy in an alley on the first date (or possibly even the first meeting), but late is better than never. I was surprised by how innocent he was- a guy like him, you'd think he'd have been eaten alive. I got him all hot and bothered before letting him play with me so he wouldn't pay too much attention to, say, my bone structure or the scars on my wrists. Nice guys are, well, nice and all, but they're very tiring.

Which really makes me wonder why I haven't gotten bored with him yet... perhaps it's because underneath the clean-boy smell and the clean-cut attitude, he's actually rather cynical and sarcastic. It's amusing. It's not like I actually care about him. I just want to get him to quit nagging me so I can get laid. I could probably just find another boyfriend without the nagging morals, but... eh. I don't feel like it. I just finally finished teaching Haru how to kiss me like I want.

Don't give me that. Attachments are for wimps.

Puh! I've got no better answer. Those jerks at the facility can deal with it. Besides, it says "be honest" at the top of the form, and I am... more or less.

O-o-O-o-O

Just got off the phone with Haru. I didn't tell him about the form- I'm not stupid. He'd get all mushy on me. Besides, maybe he'll do that thing with the tongue if I spring it on him.

(Short and stupid. I don't know why, but writing this half was like pulling teeth. And usually Azula is really easy for me. This is uber-late because I've been having laptop issues as of late (got a new one, and then it needed a new hardrive... oy vey) and because FFN was being a bitch. Sorry. Review?)


End file.
